


The Secrets We Share

by ajstyling



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Hilclaude Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajstyling/pseuds/ajstyling
Summary: Five times Claude tells Hilda a secret and the one time Hilda tells Claude one.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49
Collections: Hilclaude Week 2020





	1. The First Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the Secrets prompt for Hilclaude Week 2020. For more information on the week check [here.](https://twitter.com/Hilclaudeweek)

Hilda opened her eyes to the golden hue of sunlight pouring in through the high windows of her small room. She rolled her shoulders experimentally, these dorm beds would take some getting used to but the mountain of pillows she had packed away in the boxes that littered the floor would definitely help. 

There was one small problem: those pesky boxes weren’t going to unpack themselves. The boxes remained piled against each other since the night before when Holst had dropped her off at Garreg Mach with well wishes and a teary farewell. No amount of napping comfort was worth the sweat of unpacking every one of the boxes by herself. 

The abbey bells tolled in the distance reminding her of the imminent and mandatory house meeting where she would meet all the other students she would be spending the year with. On the one hand, this meeting was sure to be stiff, awkward, and most likely boring, but, on the other hand, this could be the perfect solution to all her problems. The meeting was sure to be brimming with strong men eager to impress a delicate flower like herself. A few well placed smiles and compliments and these boxes would practically take care of themselves. With new found excitement masked behind a practiced laziness, Hilda made her way from her room to the Golden Deer common room. 

In the common room, the rest of her housemates were gathered in a loose circle near the back of the room as someone Hilda couldn’t quite see around tall, wide body of a blonde boy whose shirt didn't fit quite right held court. It must be their house leader—the boy from Riegan. Unlike the heirs from other prominent houses, Hilda knew very little about him. He had appeared out of nowhere a year ago and even Holst seemed to have almost no information about him.

Seeing Hilda, the large boy slid to the side to make way for her to join the circle. This gave Hilda one, very crucial, piece of new information: the Riegan boy was _very_ cute. Cute and important meant that he would be an excellent choice to practice those smiles and compliments on. Imagine having the future leader of the Leicester Alliance doing her chores? The possibilities truly were endless. 

As he spoke, Hilda twirled her hair and offered him a coquettish grin. Once he was done talking to them, confident her work was done, she retreated to the far corner and waited patiently for him to come and speak with her. 

As the minutes passed, Hilda worried that she might have lost her touch because he had yet to introduce himself. With a sigh, she resigned herself to having a cup of tea and then returning to her room. Surely she could find a willing assistant on the way back.

She moved to the refreshment table set-up in the room and quickly filled a small plate with sweets before she moved to pick up the tea pot marked as rose petal blend. As her finger grazed the handle, a calloused hand touched her wrist gently.

“Trust me when I say that you _do not_ want that particular blend.”

“And how would you know what I want, Mr. Riegan?” she asked.

He laughed easily, “Just Claude is fine. Hilda, right?”

Her eyes narrowed, “How did you know?”

“I make it my business to know the members of my house and the pink hair gave you away,” he laughed again. 

Hilda set down her plate of desserts and folded her arms across her chest. “You still haven’t answered my first question.”

Claude stood silently for a few seconds but then he seemed to decide something and he said, “That particular blend is meant for someone in particular.” 

“Oh, and who might that be?”

“Have you met Lorenz yet?” He gave a slight nod toward a lanky boy with a rather unfortunate haircut that stood beside a pillar.

“Can’t say I have,” Hilda said.

“Well, believe me when I say that if you had you would understand why him drinking that tea is very important.”

Hilda’s eyes narrowed even further. “You’re being remarkably shady for someone who is supposed to be a leader.”

Claude sighed and then, surprisingly, he leaned in close, so close she could smell the faint hint of sandalwood radiating off him, to her face and whispered, “I just think everyone might enjoy a couple days of orientation without a thousand ‘well, actuallys’ from Lorenz.” 

Hilda gasped and looked down at the teapot, “You’re trying to poison him,” she hissed. 

Claude’s gave her a small smirk. “You catch on quick.”

“And why exactly shouldn’t I tell everyone what you’re planning?” Hilda asked angrily. Some kind of leader he was trying to poison one of their classmates.

“One, because it’s just a mild stomach poison. Two, because I stopped you from drinking it. And three, because then I’d owe you a favor,” he whispered and gave her a conspiratorial wink that left her cheeks oddly flushed. He smiled and continued, “So, what do you say? Our little secret?”

She watched his stupidly cute smirk, thought about the boxes still sitting unpacked in her room, and came to a decision.

“Alright,” she said with a small nod, “our secret.”


	2. A Secret Belief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Recently got a new puppy that has been keeping me very busy. Hope you enjoy!

Life at Garreg Mach was full of surprises. Hilda was unsure what to expect when she first arrived—certainly not a monastery with a secret basement and a fourth house that she had never heard of. 

She found Claude to be full of just as many, if not more, surprises. For one, despite his position of prominence, Claude was absolutely a man of his word. A few short hours after their first day of a Lorenz-less orientation, he had shown up at her door and unpacked each and every box in her room with _almost_ no complaints. What’s more, he seemed to take this exchange as some sort of friendship pact and proceeded to eat dinner with her every single night. 

Claude was rarely forthcoming about any personal details during their meals, but Hilda didn’t mind since he was always happy to gossip idly about others. 

More surprising, he seemed impervious to her flirtations. Try as she might to smile, wink, and flirt her way out of chores, Claude wouldn’t bend. She found his resistance annoying—there was no getting out of mock battles and stable duty with him around—and strangely alluring. 

She was surprised by Claude and the monastery, but one thing didn’t surprise Hilda: the unbearable tedium of the mandatory services, that featured Seteth’s long-winded homilies, each week.

Hilda hadn’t yet devised a sufficient enough excuse to skip out, so when Saturday afternoon rolled around she trudged her way, along with the members of each house, to the cathedral to sing dusty old hymns, recite ancient creeds, and pretend to believe in a goddess who for some reason cared about how the students performed during a mock battle.

As she entered the cathedral, she spied Claude sitting alone near the back and made a beeline to join him. 

“You saved me a seat,” Hilda said as she drew near.

Claude gestured toward the entirely empty row next to him. “I saved you all the seats.”

Hilda slumped into the pew beside him. “What a gentleman.”

“Only the finest for Lady Goneril,” he bowed dramatically.

Hilda rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. 

“So what words of wisdom do you think Seteth has for us today?” She asked dryly.

“He’s probably going to tell you to stop making Ferdinand tend the horses in your place.”

She slapped at his arm. “Ferdinand loves horses! I’m just giving him more opportunities to spend time with them.” 

“Ah,” Claude nodded. “Is that also why you’re having Lorenz organize the training room for you?”

“He loves weapons,” she said quickly.

“And Caspar cleaning the kitchen?”

“Good way to build muscle.”

Claude tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Is there anyone here you don’t have wrapped around your finger?”

“Wellllll,” Hilda said, “there is this one boy—stubborn guy—won’t let me get out of _any_ chores.”

“Perish the thought.”

“What’s worse,” Hilda added, “he’s also the leader of the Golden Deer.”

“Ah,” Claude said, “sounds devilishly handsome. Probably smart and charming too.”

“Eh,” Hilda shrugged, “if he was smart he wouldn’t make a delicate flower work so much!”

Claude smirked. “But you don’t deny the handsome and charming part?”

“You know what would make him really handsome? Letting me sit out the next mock battle.”

Claude’s response died on his lips as the choir at the front of the cathedral began to sing and the procession of monks, led by Seteth, made their way to the apse at the front of the cathedral. The monks stopped at the front and moved into the first two rows of pews while Seteth proceeded forward toward the elevated ambo in the north corner of the church.

When he reached the top, he cleared his throat and without preamble launched into his latest didactic lesson about the virtues of the goddess. As he spoke, Hilda’s mind wandered far from the dusty old Cathedral. As the sermon dragged on, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Just as her head began to slump forward, a movement to her side jolted her awake. 

She watched as Claude slid quietly down to the end of the pew. When he reached the end, he turned back toward her and gave a slight nod toward the back of the cathedral. Without a second thought, Hilda followed him out of the pew, through the back of the cathedral, and out into the fresh, non-sleep inducing air of the monastery.

They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the end of the bridge that connected the rest of the monastery to the cathedral. 

“I think the gardens should be pretty empty right now,” Claude said. “Fancy a visit?”

“Well you’re certainly full of surprises,” Hilda mused as she continued following him through the halls.

“How so?”

“Didn’t take you for the type to play hooky,” she said.

Claude laughed. “You’ve got a lot to learn about me Hilda.”

They continued in silence until they arrived at the outdoor courtyard in the middle of the entirely empty monastery gardens. He led them to the center of the courtyard where a gazebo stood. He slunk down against the gazebo and, to Hilda’s great surprise, pulled a small book out of his pocket and started reading. The cover of the book was ratty and worn down, but she could make out the words ‘Almyran Customs.”

Hilda slunk down beside him. “Well, someone came prepared.”

“I’m always prepared,” Claude said without looking up from his book.

Hilda folded her arms across her chest, “You know, it’s rude to invite a girl to play hooky and then ignore her.”

Claude looked up from his book with a laugh. “I just figured you might enjoy your nap more out here than in the hard back seat of a church pew.”

“I wasn’t napping!”

“Forgive me. I must have misunderstood why your eyes were closed and you were falling forward in your seat,” Claude teased.

The knowledge that Claude had been watching her close enough to catch her napping made Hilda’s cheeks flush crimson red.

“Fine,” Hilda conceded, “I can’t help it. Those sermons are so boring.”

“Can’t argue there.”

“So, what are you reading?” Hilda asked.

“Oh, just brushing up on the Leicester border territories,” He said dismissively. 

“I don’t remember that being assigned.”

“It wasn’t,” Claude said. “Just some extra special reading for the extra special house leader.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun at all,” Hilda said and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Claude grunted ambivalently and turned back to his book. The weather was perfect for a quick nap, but now that Hilda was freed from the cathedral a nap was the furthest thing from her mind.

“So, what’s your deal?” she asked.

“My deal?” He looked up from the book again.

“I find the services dreadfully boring. That’s why I want to skip them or sleep through them. But how about you? Isn’t being super devout basically mandatory to lead one of the houses?” 

Claude looked up at Hilda as he marked the page in his book and set it back inside his coat. 

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

“You already know I can.” She winked. 

“That I do,” Claude gave her a small smile. “Alright, I suppose you’ve earned the truth then.”

Hilda leaned in closer to him, ready for whatever his secret might be. 

“Do you believe in gods?” he asked.

Hilda drew back a little, surprised by his question, but her answer came to her easy enough, “No, not really.”

Claude nodded as if that answer made total sense to him. “Me neither. I’ve always hated the idea of praying to a god.”

Hilda scooted closer once more. Empty garden or not, this sort of talk was not anywhere in the realm of acceptable at the monastery. 

“How come?” she asked. 

“Well, you can’t really rely on gods can you? They can’t cook meals or tend flowers. They don’t sharpen swords or swing axes. They’ve never given a lecture or eaten a meal with me. They don’t catch fish or sell wares. They don’t help plan and they don’t guarantee victory.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Hilda mused. “Though I think some people just like the idea of something bigger than themselves.”

“Those people have probably never really faced anything truly bigger than themselves,” he offered.

“And you have?”

She noticed him hesitate a moment before speaking and then he asked, “Do you know why your family fights Almyrans?”

Hilda drew back, surprised by his question. “Well—because they try to invade Fódlan, I guess.”

Claude nodded. “I thought you might say that. Anyways, all I’m saying is that in the end you can only ever rely on yourself. That’s what I’ve always believed and how I’ve always lived. No gods or Goddess can change that.”

“You can rely on me.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could catch them. He just looked and sounded so sad, she reasoned with herself. No one should feel alone. She watched as his sadness turned from confusion to bemusement and she recognized her mistake immediately and made quick work to amend it. 

“I don’t mean like to fight,” she added quickly.

“Ah,” Claude’s smile grew wider, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sidelines for me please. But like you can rely on me—to have dinner with you! And skip church with you!” 

“As always Hilds,” he deadpanned, “you are so generous.”

“You are so very welcome, Claude!” she said. “You know, speaking of relying on friends—I’ve got this pesky greenhouse duty later tonight and Raphael is unable to help me out with it.”

Claude laughed and stood up from the ground. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

Hilda watched Claude leave, but made no effort to move from her spot against the gazebo. WIth the sun bearing down on her and Claude leaving her be, this was the perfect time for a nap. As her eyelids drooped lower and lower she found her mind strangely fixed on dinner and hoped the nap would make it come sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan hilclaude and come holler at me on twitter: @ajstyyling


	3. A Secret Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Thanks to Kris (twitter: @kriselii) for reading an early version of this and making it a lot better with her edits.

As the cool night of the Ethereal Moon descended on the monastery, students and faculty alike streamed into the transformed reception hall. Not even Seteth could be bothered by curfews and quiet hours on a night like this. Boisterous laughter and lovely music flowed out of the halls, but Hilda stood in the courtyard near the Golden Deer classroom. She was the champion of the White Heron Cup, after all, which meant that the only time to arrive was fashionably late. She busied herself by playing with the metal bangles that hung from her wrist and tugging at the flimsy edges of her dress in an attempt to combat the cold. The ruffled fabric that flared at her waist and the high leg slit were beautiful, but not made for winter. She ran her hands over the half braid crown on the top of her head. Just five more minutes and then she could go in and steal the show.

“You look cold,” a voice called from across the courtyard. 

Claude smiled broadly as he crossed the courtyard to her. He traded out his usual coat for a simple gold doublet that was tucked into high waisted black trousers. The outfit hugged his body tighter than his usual fare. Hilda mentally cursed him for keeping all of that hidden away for so long. For as good as he looked, he still uncomfortably tugged at his get up. 

“I think you mean I look lovely,” Hilda said with a curtsey.

His green eyes slipped downward, trailing across her exposed shoulder, down the bodice of her dress, before landing on her bare leg. He flicked his gaze back to her face before it drifted down again. “Lovely and cold,” Claude managed at last.

Warmth flooded her cheeks. Boys always looked at her like that, but she wasn’t used to Claude looking at anyone with more than a disinterested smirk. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said. “And look! We match.” She caressed the braid in her hair while nodding at his own.

He laughed and reflexively tugged at the collar of the doublet again. “Thanks, but I think I’d rather be in my room with a book and a comfortable shirt.”

Hilda gasped. “What do you have against parties?” A cold burst of wind blew through the courtyard and sent shivers down her spine. 

“I’ve got nothing against parties—,” Claude started. “Hang on.” He raced back across the courtyard and into the Golden Deer classroom. He jogged back out after a few seconds with a familiar looking coat in his hands. He came back to her and held out his jacket.

“I can’t wear your jacket,” Hilda insisted, “It clashes terribly with my dress and won’t you be wearing it?”

Claude held the jacket toward her again. “Fódlan has weird rules about balls and dress codes, so I can’t wear it anyways and you can take it off when you go inside.” 

A fierce squall of wind raged through the courtyard, chilling her to the core, and her mind was made up. “Fine.”

Claude moved behind her, chasing away the cold with the warmth of his body. Light scents of sandalwood and geranium tickled Hilda’s nose as he slipped the coat over her shoulders. It was almost enough to miss the way he spoke of Fódlan like it wasn’t his home. It was a slip. Claude danced around sharing personal details like they were his own personal White Heron Cup, but even he missed a step from time-to-time. Sometimes a killer dress really was enough—Holst would be eating his words. 

“I didn’t know that Derdriu doesn’t consider themselves a part of Fódlan,” she teased. It wasn’t an accusation, not really, more of an offer that he could take or leave.

Claude’s brow twitched briefly, but it was gone in an instant replaced with an all-too-familiar smug grin. “It’s not my fault you keep sleeping through all of the world geography lessons.”

“Excuse me, but _someone_ ,” she poked his chest, “has been keeping me up way too late with his schemes and weird conspiracies.”

Claude folded his arms across his chest. “That someone stays up later than you and he makes it through world geography just fine.”

“That’s only because that _someone_ skips most of his church history courses,” Hilda shot back.

Claude cursed. “I thought no one noticed that.”

“We sit next to each other in every course we have together,” Hilda deadpanned.

“Huh,” his brow arched. Another misstep in the dance. His eyes narrowed as he took her in once more. “You’re more observant than people give you credit for.”

Hilda tugged at the coat sleeves and stared at the brick behind Claude. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

Claude roused himself from whatever thought occupied him. “Well, I’ve gotta get in there,” he gestured toward the reception hall. “Being the House Leader and all people are probably expecting me. I’m assuming you’ll be fashionably late?” 

Hilda giggled. “You know me well, Mr. Leaderman. I’ll save you a dance once I’m inside.”

Claude winked and sauntered off toward the reception hall. Hilda waited several more minutes. Walking in after Claude while carrying his jacket might lead to more questions than she was ready to answer.

Finally, the coast was clear, the stage set for her grand entrance. Hilda shrugged off Claude’s coat with a small pang of disappointment, but she knew that this dress was too good to cover up. She took one final smell before she tossed it over her forearm and pushed open the door to the reception hall.

Time froze as countless faces in the room turned toward the door and took her in. A cacophony of voices filled the room all at once.

“There she is!”

“The White Heron Cup Champion!”

“Wow, that dress!”

A few of her fellow Golden Deer classmates gave a raucous cheer while Sylvain wolf whistled from a nearby table. She waved at her classmates with one hand and gave Sylvain a middle finger with the other.

“Save me a dance?” Sylvain called out.

“In your dreams,” Hilda offered back without turning to acknowledge him. 

She scanned the room. Raphael, Ignatz, and Leonie huddled near the overflowing tables of food at the side of the room. Marianne and Lysithea stood by one of the tables near the dance floor, quietly taking in the festivities. Lorenz waxed poetically to a group of alumni who returned for the ball. She spotted Rhea, Seteth, Edelgard, and Dimitri as well as the members of their various houses, but Claude had truly disappeared. 

She briefly joined Marianne and Lysithea at their table, but the call of the dance floor was too much. She set down Claude’s coat and let Dorothea pull her away from the table for her first dance of the night.

After Dorothea, the dam burst and Hilda found herself bombarded with request after request. She danced with Dedue and, after him, Ferdinand. Then she danced with Marianne. Then Leonie. She danced with Petra and Annette. She danced and danced and danced until she swore she had danced with everyone—well, except for Sylvain of course. The dancing spilled into the late hours of the night until Hilda thought her feet might fall off. And still Claude hadn’t made another appearance or asked her for a dance.

The late hour caught up with many of the students who slowly trickled out from the reception hall. Some retreated to the comforts of their warm beds while others made their way to another late night rendezvous. The music quieted, the food disappeared, yet Hilda lingered, waiting by a table near the dance floor. She wanted a bath, a glass of wine, or maybe just her bed, but she promised Claude a dance and not even he could ignore that. Right?

She waited, and she waited, and she waited until only a few stragglers lingered in the reception hall. Her eyelids grew heavy under the weight of hours of spirited dancing. Claude would hear about this tomorrow, and probably the day after, but for now making it to her bed was more pressing. She grabbed his coat and started toward the door with a weary gait. The door burst open, stopping Hilda in her tracks, and Claude strode through, a determined, and familiar, look in his eyes. 

“Hilda,” he stopped in front of her.

She folded her arms across her chest and did her best to look unimpressed. “I think we need to talk about what fashionably late actually means.”

“Too late for a dance then?”

Annoyance crept into her voice as she said, “That would be an understatement,” and gestured toward the nearly empty reception hall. 

“I know. I know,” he had the decency to look apologetic. “I thought maybe I could trade that dance for something else?” He asked with a conspiratorial wink.

She knew the beginnings of a scheme when she heard one and, despite her aching feet and frustrated thoughts, she leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a secret.”

Add another to the pile. Newfound energy coursed through her body and a coy smile curled her lips. “Alright, I’m in.”

She started toward the door. Rough, calloused hands pressed against her perfectly cared for skin and swallowed her wrist whole. “Not that way,” he said. His gentle grip held fast as he ushered them across the reception hall toward the doors which opened onto the cathedral bridge. “You’re going to need that,” he nodded toward the coat slung over her forearm and dropped her wrist. 

She slipped his coat on as he pushed open the door. A blissful gush of cool air crashed over Hilda as they stepped from the stuffy reception hall and into the night.

“So can you tell me where we’re going now?” Hilda whispered.

“I told you it’s a secret.”

Growing up, Holst regaled her with stories about Garreg Mach. One of Holst’s favorites settled in her mind: _On the last night of Ethereal Moon, the same night as the ball, if a man and a woman go to the Goddess Tower together and make a wish, it’s sure to come true._ Was that Claude’s big surprise? 

Before the thought could get away from her, Claude turned away from the bridge, and the Goddess tower, without a word. Hilda followed silently behind him. They walked for a few minutes before Claude brought them to a stop in the middle of a run-down cemetery.

“So,” Hilda lingered on the word, sarcasm infusing each note, “instead of dancing with me you brought me to the cemetery.” Her exhaustion returned with a force. Even for him, the idea of spending the night of the ball at a cemetery was a bit much. She could not deal with his weirdness tonight. 

“Look, Claude—” she started and promptly stopped as he pulled a chain out of his doublet. On the end of the chain was a metallic whistle that he put between his lips and blew. 

At first, his whistle was met with nothing but the cold silence of the night. After a short while, though, a light humming filled the air—like wings flapping against the wind. Then she saw it: a small speck on the horizon that grew larger every second. 

“Claude,” she said, her voice laced with concern.

“Trust me,” he said simply. 

The speck grew larger and larger until she could see its lizard like snout and imposing wings from where she stood. The wyvern landed in front of them with an impressive display of grace for something so large and then licked gleefully at Claude’s face.

Hilda cleared her throat, words evaded her. In front of her, a massive, ghostly white wyvern bent low and nuzzled against Claude. She pinched herself, but the sharp stab of pain told her that this absurd situation was in fact real. “Claude,” she managed at last.

“Oh right,” he gently pushed the wyvern away from his face, “Hilal, let me introduce you to my friend, Hilda. Hilda, this is Hilal.”

Hilda’s jaw dropped. Whatever reticence Hilda felt, Hilal shared none of it. The wyvern turned away from Claude and bounded across the cemetery, her massive feet trampling the grass. Hilda squeaked and doubled over, eyes squeezed shut. She was going to kill Claude if this wyvern ate her, or worse, ruined her dress.

Waves of warm, smelly wyvern breath washed over her face. Her eyes stayed closed. “Claude, please get this thing away from me.”

Claude scoffed, “Hilal’s not a thing. She’s a very good girl and one of my oldest friends.” He moved closer and scratched beneath the wyvern’s scaly chin. Hilal offered a gutteral hum in return.

“Well, can you have your ‘oldest friend’ take a couple steps back? Her breath stinks,” Hilda said.

“Don’t worry, she grows on you.”

Hilda was unsure whether he was talking to her or the wyvern. “Claude, did you really bring me out to a cemetery in the middle of the night to meet a wyvern?”

“Of course not,” Claude gave her a large grin, “but she’s definitely a part of the secret.”

Hilda sighed and opened her eyes. Curiosity really was a sickness. “What’s the rest of the secret?” she asked.

“I have to show you.” Claude hoisted himself onto the wyvern’s back effortlessly, then reached his hand toward her.

“For goddess sake, Claude. Do you really think I’m getting on that thing with you?” she hissed and took a large step backwards.

“She’s not a thing,” he insisted. “And that depends.”

She glared. “On what?”

“Do you trust me?”

The question lingered in the silence between them. Many at the monastery didn’t. Lorenz in particular made no attempts to hide this. Claude was not forthcoming with personal details, his smiles rarely reached his eyes, and he was always up to something. He’d roped her into enough schemes to last a lifetime. But as Hilda tugged his jacket tighter she found the answer spilling out effortlessly, “I do.”

“Good,” Claude gave her another smile, genuine this time. “Then take my hand.”

She gave the wyvern a final wary glance before she reached out and took his hand. Earlier his grip had been light and gentle, like she was a delicate flower that he didn’t want to break. Now, his grip was firm as he pulled her up toward him. She settled in behind him, unsure what to do with her hands.

“Put your arms around my waist,” he instructed, as if he could read her mind. 

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and buried her face into his back. If they were going to die on this stupid thing then better to not look at all. If her position bothered Claude at all, he said nothing. He gave a quick whistle and Hilal rocketed off the ground and into the air. Hilda’s stomach dropped and the wind whipped at her face as they climbed higher into the night sky. She kept her eyes closed and her face pressed firmly to his back until she felt them stop rising.

“Hilda,” Claude said gently.

“I hope this secret doesn’t require me having my eyes open,” Hilda said through clenched teeth. 

He had the audacity to laugh, deep and full throated. “I’m afraid it does.” Then, more gently, he added, “Trust me, you don’t want to miss this.”

Hilda counted down from ten in her mind. At zero, she pried her head away from his back and cracked one eye open. She gasped. The monastery and the surrounding town stood beneath them, cast in the ethereal glow of the moon. She opened both eyes and craned her neck to take in as much of the view as possible. Neither of them spoke, the gentle thrumming of Hilal’s wings the only noise that imposed on the silence.

Claude broke their silence first. “So, pretty good, huh?”

“It is ‘pretty good’,” she answered slowly, “but it’s hard to beat a dance with me.”

“Oh come on, not even you can deny how great this is!” Claude shot back.

“I don’t know,” she retorted, making no efforts to contain her laughter, “you should probably ask all those people who got to dance with me for their opinion.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure I would be a great dance partner.” Doubt crept at the edge of his words.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have rhythm?” she teased.

“I’ve got more rhythm in one hand then all those stuffy nobles down there combined,” he hesitated before continuing, “I’m just not super familiar with all the proper dances. What if I didn’t know a dance you wanted me to?”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I would teach you, silly. Besides I’m sure your grandfather taught you all the important ones.”

“Actually, he wasn’t much of a dancer,” he admitted.

“Well, did your parents teach you any dances?”

“Loads,” he answered, “but who knows if they taught them correctly.”

She slapped lightly at his back. “Goddess, Claude, it’s just dancing. I’m sure the world could survive you being a bad dancer.”

“I think Lorenz might disagree,” Claude mused. “At this point, I think messing up a dance might be enough for him to insist that House Riegan shouldn’t lead the Alliance anymore.”

Hilda scoffed. “With a haircut like that, I’m pretty sure his opinion doesn’t count.” 

His laughter filled the air around them. “This is why I keep you around.”

A gust of wind knocked free strands of her hair and she pressed her face close to him once more. “Let’s get one thing straight. It’s me who keeps you around.”

“How could I forget?” he shook his head. 

“Don’t let it happen again,” she teased. As they sat, the night chill crept through Claude’s coat and wracked Hilda’s body in cold shivers. “I think I’d like to go to bed now,” she said with a tired sigh.

Claude guided Hilal back to the ground. He hopped down first, then offered Hilda his hand with a flourish. She took his hand gingerly, allowing him to help her down. The hard ground beneath her feet came as a great relief. Without a word, the wyvern jumped into the air and disappeared into the night sky after only a few short moments. 

Hilda turned toward Claude. “Thank you for the trip. That was really pretty,” she said between yawns. “But you’re going to regret not getting that dance.”

He laughed and shrugged. “I guess we’ll just need to throw another ball.”

“You can go ahead and do that. I’m tired,” Hilda offered, unceremoniously. She slipped off his coat and offered it back to him. “I’m going to bed. Thank you for your jacket.”

He pushed it back toward her. “Keep it for the night. It’s a long walk to the dorms and your dress doesn’t look very warm.”

She slipped the jacket back on without a word of protest. The wind lapped at Claude’s hair as they hovered in the silence. Hilda’s gaze trailed the path of his braid as it fluttered against his cheek. Before she could second guess herself, Hilda stood on her tip toes and brushed her lips against his cheek.

Her lips lingered briefly before she yanked them away. Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Well, goodnight,” she called across her shoulder as she strode away without another glance.

She stumbled back to her room and threw herself on her bed without changing. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Her dreams smelled of sandalwood and geranium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name for Claude's wyvern came from Koala (twitter: @sleepinggoblin) go check out their amazingly cute art! Comments and kudos greatly appreciated!
> 
> Stan hilclaude and come yell at me on twitter: @ajstyyling

**Author's Note:**

> Stan hilclaude and come holler at me on twitter: @ajstyyling


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